Back in Black
by Krystal Kerro Sky
Summary: Paul has gone insane, or has he?
1. Chapter 1

Back in Black - Paul

Disclaimer: I do not own the game, except a copy. Paul is by no means mine.

The halls were deathly quiet, far too quiet to be a real military installation. Only the steady patter of technical babble was heard through the stony corridors. A set of soldier's boots echoed the first noise down this branch for the past hour. They made their way, two of them, down the hall, weapons drawn. They were bored, and spoke to each other.

"Can't believe we have dawn patrol. There is nothing down there, except computer rooms and routing stations. Why the heck should we bother with this place?"

"Because Page is paying us to. You don't want to piss that woman off. And… well, this is the only area that matters."

"What ever… Let's just hurry with these halls."

The two continued on, not even noticing the blue eyes hiding inside a dark room. The eyes blinked, and then moved out, staying low and silent. There was a slight movement, and the two eyes became six as silver joined the light cast. The two guards never even noticed the person.

"I'll get you a coffee when we get back to the break room?"

"All right, all right. Coffee."

The eyes rose, still nothing more than a breath of air behind the two soldiers. The silver came up as well, positioning to strike the un-aware guards. The blades pivoted, and the eyes became slivers as the person got into position. The sharp intake of breath alerted the guards, and they spun around just in time to meet the dual blades face to silver face. They fell without a sound and the attacker grinned. He took their access cards, and moved on down the hall way. The blades dripped crimson as he moved on.

The dark coat with the silver bar along the bottom and on the sleeves moved through the hall with nothing more than a whisper, dark shoes tapping lightly on the metallic tiles. Glowing blue eyes flickered down each and every hallway they came across. The black and slightly gray goatee framed a stern mouth on a chiseled face. Black-brown hair was slicked back, a few strands out of place and sticking at odd angles. The form was sleek and muscular, accented by black and silver clothing. The swords hanging in hand were silver bladed, the hilts wrapped in black leather.

The person, a nano-augmented agent, moved deftly through the halls, seeking out his next target. It wasn't long before he came upon the break room that the other two guards had spoken of. He used his access card and opened the door.

A large number of guards looked up, seeing him. They were all on their feet in the next moment, guns drawn. The agent vanished when they started opening fire, dodging and weaving around them. The blades moved swiftly, blood spraying from each and every victim. It a matter of moments, every single person was dead, and the agents de-cloaked. He almost didn't need to, because he was covered from head to foot in blood. It dripped off his face and coat, pooling on the floor at his feet.

He spun around and ran from the room. Leaving a trail of blood, it wouldn't be hard to follow him.

The small patrols he came across were easily felled. They never even heard him coming.

Paul Denton kept low and silent, slinking through the halls with deadly grace and speed.

The explosion that rocked through the installation was only survived by one person, who walked calmly from the building, blood stained on his clothing, skin and hair. He never looked back, but still held a self-satisfied smile on his smooth face. He walked into the desert, the night wind that came just before dawn cold against his face and hands. He didn't care, though, and just kept walking. The facts of his actions would not hit him until he was confronted by someone that he was covered in blood, and that there had been an explosion in the desert. Even then he would be cold, emotionless, not caring what anyone said. He would ask where the bathroom was, and clean up, washing the blood down the sink. He would never look at himself in the mirror, knowing he wore an accusatory face that screamed murderer.

He would never ask how he did it; never relive the memories of that night in the pre-dawn of the world. The lives taken… so many that he couldn't count. He was never one to kill, but here he was, washing blood from his face, seeing it drip off and join the water, run down the sink and out of sight. Time to move on.

Leave the dinner outside a small town; he walked once again into the desert as the sun lifted from the horizon. With the sun at his back, he headed west, not knowing what he would find beyond the sand dunes on the horizon. Part of him hoped for death, another for salvation. He wanted retribution for what he did, for everything he had put others through on his account. He wanted to apologize to them, mainly to his brother, who took the brunt of everything that circled him. He should have never put JC on the front line like he did that first night. It may have been a test, but it was needless. Having JC head into the fray with hardly any equipment was a bad use of judgment, and should have been avoided.

The sand crunched underfoot, and the wind picked up, sweeping away his trail. No one would ever find him, and maybe his death would be enough. Would leave them all wondering, but it would be right. He killed too many people, ended their lives needlessly, his would be adequate payment.

How long he walked, he had no idea. His systems shut down, leaving him a normal man, lost in a sea of sand and misery. The sun was high before he collapsed, face first on the dry ground. He passed out with out a second thought, except willing the vultures overhead to pick him clean.

A/N: Will continue if there is enough support.


	2. Chapter 2

"Where the hell is he? He couldn't have just disappeared." The man said, staring at the computer screen unblinkingly, panning through the next image with blinding speed. It might have to do with the cord running from the back of his head to the port on the keyboard. It was un-nerving to the people around him.

"JC, I know Paul… He always does something for a reason, and maybe this is another one of those times where he can't tell us. It has happened before." The woman behind him said, masked with concern on her gray eyes and brown hair. She wore a pilots jacket similar to Jocks.

"Then where is he?" The cold voice demanded, but was only met by silence from those around him. He turned and glared first from the older pilot and friend, Jock, to Alex, Jaime and finally Mel, the one person who supposedly knew Paul better than his own brother. "Where is he, Sweet Charity?"

The use of her pet-name, the one she signed all her notes to Paul with, made her cringe. "I don't know, JC. Neither Jock nor I dropped him off anywhere… He was just gone." She looked away, arms crossed in defeat as she walked to the window that looked down on the Paris Street. "I want to know where he is too, but I have no idea."

With a sigh of frustration, the Agent sat at the computer. He had no idea why he was turning to this last resort, but it was just that, a last resort. "Helios…"

"Yes?"

"Can you find Paul Denton?" JC asked, speaking slowly, as though wanting to delay the news that the Omnipresent AI couldn't find the missing Agent. All he needed was to hear the closure of those words, to make sure that what he was feeling in the pit of his stomach was not a gut instinct.

"Yes. Sarching."

Blue eyes shot up at the sound of the word. Helios had to search? Since when? That thing had reign of the whole 'net, and it had to search? JC's eyes flickered to keep up with the AI, seeing the lines of code it went through in the process. A map displayed on the screen, showing the remains of a bombed building.

"Reports state that one Agent Denton entered at 1:34 this morning, and massacred everyone in the building before destroying it. The explosion occurred at 5:27, 42 minutes before sunrise." The image zoomed into foot prints. "This is proof he was there."

"Where do they lead?"

Not even a 20 minute walk was a diner, which was not at all busy. A security camera caught Paul's Entrance and Exit. Once with blood, once without. Two completely different people trapped in one body. JC was sure everyone stared, horrified, at what passed on the screen.

"Oh my god… Paul…" Mel whispered, choking back sobs.

"Where does he go from there?" JC asked, trying to keep his anger and astonishment in check. He had no idea what this might bring, but somehow, he hoped it was the end.

Helios took forever to reply, and on other screens, the 'Net visibly slowed down. The screens froze, only the cursor blinked as the physical people looked on. The room dropped into dead silence, only Mel's periodical sobs coming through.

"It's ok, sweetheart, he's still around. He will be found." Jock consoled, standing next to the woman and putting an arm around her. The older pilot was feeling his age after the events a year ago, when JC handed Area-51 over to Everett. The crazy man let them live with Nicollet at her chateau, but the young woman was never around to really care. They were left to their own devices in the mean time.

Two other figures entered then, watching everyone. They had no idea what was going on, but they felt it best to not talk. For once the shorter of the two held his annoying voice that agitated on the only real Agents' nerves. They stood at the back of the room, watching the others.

Jaime looked up to the two, and waved them over. "Paul has gone missing—"

"I know, he said he was going for a while…" The shorter man replied, running a hand through his red hair. Lines traced by fingers revealed he was decently augmented by the same technology that made up JC and Paul. He wore his trench coat like a mantle, with arms not through the sleeves.

JC slowly turned around, glowing eyes slits through his glasses. "Nick… you knew he was leaving?"

Bob Pages' clone shied away, but his silent companion placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him from going anywhere. "Yeah, not where too, just that he was going. He never said anything more than that."

Eyes snapped to the other clone. "You knew of this as well, Wade?"

"Yes sir. Agent Denton informed us that he would be leaving for a while, and that we were not to say anything until he returned, or were interrogated." Wade Walker replied, in the same tone of voice his 'father' had.

"Search complete."

All eyes snapped to the monitor. Vultures circled a figure covered by a dark coat. Sand was starting to obscure the form.

"Where?"

"Where ever he is, none of the birds can make it there." Jock muttered, pulling the keys for his chopper from his jacket pocket.

"United states. Location pinpointed." A map appeared on another screen, a red dot marking the spot several miles away from the base.

Instantly, JC was racing from the room, Jock following at his heels. They all heard the motors of the Helicopter start up, and take off from the front courtyard.

"Think they will make it?" Nick whispered, watching as vultures landed.

"I hope they do…" Mel replied, looking away from the screen.


End file.
